


Pulse

by electroncloudy



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/F, the cruddy time rewind fic no one asked for and probably already exists
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 10:34:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7711693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electroncloudy/pseuds/electroncloudy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tracer is not a gal who gave up easily - not in the past, not now.</p><p>or</p><p>Lena Oxton's attempt at saving her best friend and one great love from her tragic fate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pulse

**Author's Note:**

> im sorry i. wrote this at 3 am in the morning. it's unbeta'd and sad probably??

Lena was still a bright-eyed, young thing when she received her chronal accelerator. “Thanks, love!” She had chirped out at her simian friend as she tested her limbs - finally tangible. Lifting one feet then the other, she had laughed because she felt anchored for the first time in the longest time.

“The power source is experimental. That means you shouldn’t overdo it.”

“Wicked!” Lena’s eyes had opened wide as she brushed a thumb over the new device fastened to her chest. “Winston, could I go back in time with it?”

“Theoretically, yes, but,” he brought a finger up to adjust his glasses, “just a few seconds at a time, okay?” Before he could even speaking, Lena had already rewound her own time back, her thumb once again placed over the device.

“This is so cool,” Lena cried out and rewound mid sentence, bringing her speech to a garble. Sighing heavily, Winston looked over at the other woman in the room, one highly invested in Lena’s successful recovery to the material world, for help. Her long time academy friend (why, oh, why couldn’t she have been more than a friend?), Amélie, had been standing - leaning against a corner- with just the lightest hint of a congratulatory smile dancing on her full lips. Lena winked and blew a kiss at the Frenchwoman. Amélie, god bless her, smirked and turned away and Lena felt more alive than she ever had and could feel her blood, hot and rhythmic, fighting the walls of her vessels everywhere inside. The pounding coursed from her chest down her forearms and ended in her fingers and she could feel the strangest tingling in the palm of her hands. And Lena knew that Amélie felt the same because when their eyes met over mugs of coffee shared after a briefing session by Jack or when Amélie handed her a bottle of water after their evening jogs (Lena always conveniently forgot), Lena saw her own eyes mirrored in the eyes of the other and they shared the same expression.

-

“Hey, Amélie,” Lena cocked her head to the side and gazed into her friend’s eyes, “will you teach me some French.”

A quiet chuckle - throaty and deep, almost as honey as her eyes were gold, “Of course, _ma chérie_.”

“How do you tell someone that you like them? Like… Really like them?”

“Is there any specific reason for this?” Amelia hummed quietly. Her voice carried out through the rocky outcroppings and to the sea that laid beyond Watchpoint: Gibraltar. They had been sitting together, on top of the communication tower bridge, Amélie looking out at a slice of water and watching the night lights - artificial and natural - dance across low, quiet waves. She heard the buzzing of machinery that powered the watchpoint mix with the lull of ebbing water and a soft weight descended upon her heart. “ _Je t’aime_.”

“ _Je t’aime_ ,” Lena echoed.

Amélie smiled and placed her hand on top of Lena’s.

-

Years later, Lena smiled, too, as she watched her friend marry another fellow friend from the academy. She found that she was genuinely happy for her one great love; happy to see her happy. She had kissed her friend on each rosy cheek and quietly gave Amélie to her new life.

-

When Amélie disappeared, Lena was the first to go out to look for her. Gérard loved Amélie, of course he did. Lena would not have released her to anyone who didn’t value Amélie. But, he was too duty bound to stay at the base, knuckles clenched white at his knees as he imagined what horrible things could be happening to his wife and what state she would be found in. Lena imagined, too. Every body found by Overwatch was her friend, her love. Every item that had been touched by Amélie was a clue. And, when Lena found Amélie, huddled in a dark alley, eyes glazed from dehydration, tears spilled - molten hot - from her eyes and onto Amélie’s cool cheeks, bringing warmth back to them.

“ _Je t’aime, je t’aime, je t’aime,_ ” Lena chanted. It was her prayer; her saving grace. She buried her head in the other woman’s chest. Ear pressed against her heart, Lena heard a light, fluttering, racing pulse.

Amélie had placed a hand weakly onto her back in response without a word.

Later, Lena was the first to realized what had happened when she found Gérard in his bedroom facedown, pale face painted scarlet by gore, temple punctuated with a small neat hole. She didn’t scream, but her heart did. Every bit of her pounded with a deafening rhythm as a movement at the window caught her eye. Amélie, but not Amélie, stood at the window with a gun in hand. She waved and blew a kiss at Lena and then she was gone.

-

A terrorist kidnapping and assassination scheme. State funeral for Gérard. A small square of space in the news for Amélie - missing, monetary reward. Her hair was black, eyes brown, ears pierced. No, Lena protested in silent shock to herself, brain screaming at Jack that the details he was listing were incomplete. He was leaving out that Amélie sang as she cooked breakfast for the crew, and that she was a cultured lady but wasn’t beyond screaming “ _aiy_!” if she encountered large insects. He missed that her breath was hot and humid and her eyes were gold and looked down always as she smiled. It was wrong, all wrong.

All wrong, Lena echoed to herself repeatedly as she placed her hand over her heart - over the chronal accelerator. It pulsed evenly - one, two, one two.

She recalled to the last time - light blue wallpapered kitchen, a mug of steaming tea seasoned rich with low, quiet laughter - she had seen Amélie.


End file.
